


More Pretty Girls Than One

by FriedCatfish



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Early 20th Century Mining Town, F/F, there's technically OCs but only in bit parts and so i can make bread puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriedCatfish/pseuds/FriedCatfish
Summary: Melon Bun likes her job. She likes her routine. Wake up in the morning, head into the mines, get a hard day's work in, eat dinner, go to bed. Church on Sundays. It's simple, but it keeps her busy, keeps her focused.So why's this fancy foreign engineer have to come in and start causing trouble? And why can't Melon Bun stop thinking about her soft, slender hands and her big brown eyes?
Relationships: Croissant Cookie/Melon Bun Cookie (Cookie Run)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Haul Away

The sound of pickaxe striking stone was like a symphony, and the distinctive echoing sound of metal against metal was the moment that every other instrument faded away so that the timpani could be heard without anything blocking it out.

...Well, that's how Melon Bun figured it, anyway. She had never **been** to a symphony, of course. That sort of thing was for rich people in the big city, not a woman just trying to make an honest living as a miner. But she had **read** about them, from time to time, and she considered herself an imaginative person, so she had a pretty decent idea of what one would sound like.

Either way, regardless of what **else** it may have sounded like, she knew for a **fact** that metal on metal meant **payday.** So she got back to mining with renewed vigor, tearing down chunks of stone and ore like a lesser woman might tear through cardboard. Every possible distraction fell away in an instant - it was just her arms, her tools, her cart, and the cave wall in front of her. Repeated motion, again and again, sweat dripping from her brow, lamplight flickering ever so slightly. Soon the whole vein was exposed, the wall streaked with yellow and black and the occasional tiny glint of purple or green. All of it got torn out, tossed into the cart, to be tallied up out front and traded for scrip. Melon Bun wasn't thinking that far ahead, though. The movement itself, the **work** itself - that was what mattered, after all. Diligence, and taking joy in what you did... Gradually, the vein emptied out, the streaks disappeared. She kept going, practically a machine, muscle memory having long since taken over -

Melon Bun's reverie was broken by the sound of a distant steam whistle, echoing down the tunnels of the mine. She gave the wall a few more whacks, just to make sure the vein was truly empty; satisfied, she placed her pickaxe on the ground, dug her heels in, and gave her cart a good shove, sending it rattling down the rails towards the mine train. With that taken care of, she dusted off her hands (a token gesture, since most of the dust was already caked on by now), snatched her pickaxe back up, and started strolling towards the entrance of the mine, whistling a tune that went in no particular direction.

In other words, the day was largely unremarkable - though the large haul was a nice surprise - until the very moment she stepped out into the open air. It was an early summer evening, and the rain of the past couple days had finally let up, which meant that the sunset was **perfect** for lighting up the form of a twenty-something woman in what looked like it must be a two-thousand-coin - no, **three** -thousand coin suit, easily. She was talking to one of the bosses, Mister London, about... something or other. Lots of technical terms Melon Bun didn't fully process. Her pace slowed for just a moment, long enough for the other two to notice her presence.

"Ah, _there's_ our star employee." London gave her a little nod. "This is Melon Bun, the one I mentioned earlier."

"Hey there!" The woman raised her hand in greeting, gave her a big toothy smile. "The boss told me you're just about the best miner they have!"

"Well, I don't like to **brag** about it," Melon Bun responded. She reached out a hand, and the other woman gave her... a _surprisingly_ firm handshake, actually, considering how dainty she looked. "Pleased to meetcha, miss?.."

"Croissant." She had the slightest accent, though Melon Bun couldn't quite place it. French, maybe? German? "I'm the mine's new engineer. I'll be upgrading the equipment, installing some new lighting..." She glanced up at the torch strapped to Melon Bun's helmet and made a disapproving noise. "...outfitting everyone with _electrical_ headlamps, that sort of thing. Safety and efficiency, you know."

Melon Bun chuckled. "My two favorite things. Good to have you on board." With the introductions out of the way, she gave the boss a little tip of her helmet and started walking off towards home -

"Actually, could you show me around town? I haven't had much of a chance to get acquainted, and you seem like you know the place well enough."

"Croissant, I know the place better'n **anyone.** "

* * *

Truth be told, there wasn't _much_ to show her. It was a small town, and mostly a functional one; the only real points of interest were a couple of cheap restaurants and a surprisingly nice public park, a gift from the mining company To Demonstrate Its Appreciation For Their Workers And Foster A Healthy Community, In Touch With The Beauty Of Nature. (Or so the plaque on the fountain said, anyway.) Croissant didn't seem to mind, though, mostly using it as an excuse to ask Melon Bun questions about herself - and truth be told, Melon Bun didn't exactly mind answering them.

"So how long have you worked in the mine, anyway?"

"Let's see... it's June, so... coming up on ten years."

"And a model employee that whole time?"

"Took some getting used to, actually, but after my first few months I settled into the groove."

"It's hard work, isn't it?"

That got a laugh out of her. "Damn _right_ it's hard work! But that's the best way to live your life. Hard work and thrift."

"Hmm." Croissant tilted her head. "Just make sure you don't break your back out there. Work _too_ hard and you'll never work again."

"Hey, that's what _you're_ here for, ain't it? Making the rest of our lives a little easier!"

Croissant smiled. "I certainly hope so."

Before Melon Bun knew it, the sun had set and the two of them were standing outside her house, a small but comfortable building that - in a rare moment of self-indulgence - she had painted a few months back, white with green accents. It almost seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. (But, then again, so did Croissant's ponytail... and her eyes...)

"Thanks again for showing me around, Melon Bun. I can't wait to start working with you!"

Melon Bun smiled. "Same to you. Now go get some rest! Even if you're just working with machines, you gotta be well-rested in the morning!"

"I'll keep it in mind." Croissant gave her a little wave and started off down the street... though she sure seemed to be taking her time.

Melon Bun closed the door behind her, and let out a heavy sigh. She suddenly realized that she'd been... holding something in, that entire time, and she couldn't place what it was. She just knew that she felt like a rope, drawn taut and then suddenly allowed to fall to the floor.

 _Haven't eaten since lunch,_ she realized. A hunk of bread and a warm bowl of soup would settle her stomach. She set about her usual dinner routine - snatching a can of jelly-stock and a can of milk off the shelf, rolling them both open, mixing them together in a pot that was just small enough to serve as the bowl when she was done.

The whole time, her mind was on the new engineer. _She won't be wearing that fancy suit on the job, I hope. It'd just get torn up and dirty._ She chuckled at the thought. It was hard to imagine such a small and pretty woman in charge of heavy equipment. Melon Bun pictured her struggling to haul a box of spare parts around, asking for help... and of course Melon Bun **would** help out, because for someone as strong as her, it'd only take a couple minutes anyway, and it'd make Croissant's job a lot simpler, and in the long term that'd mean better lighting, better hauls, maybe even some personal gratitude -

Ah. The sound of bubbling. The soup was just about done, then. She added a dash of salt, gave it a good stir, and set it out to cool on a small table in the corner of the room. In the meantime, she settled down with the latest pulp magazine, turned towards where she'd left off the day before, and...

...Noticed what looked like a slip of paper right next to her front door. Intrigued, she set the magazine aside and walked over, grabbing what turned out to be a cheaply-printed pamphlet. On the cover was an image of a pickaxe, a wrench, and a pitchfork bundled together; below it, the words:

**LABOR IS ENTITLED TO ALL IT CREATES**

**JOIN THE I.I.U. TODAY**

Melon Bun could feel her hands shaking. She was such a **fool.** A pretty girl came along, smiling at her and talking about mining equipment, and it was enough to distract her from what was now blindingly, terribly obvious.

This Croissant girl was a damn **union organizer,** and she was about to tear this whole town apart.


	2. Talking Hard Work

In spite of the nasty shock she'd received, Melon Bun managed to sleep well that night - after all, she went to bed with a belly full of soup, feeling the blend of exhaustion and satisfaction that always came with a particularly productive workday. In fact, she woke up feeling better than she had in several days, and almost felt _guilty_ because of it; how dare she sleep so comfortably given what she'd just learned?

More importantly, the question remained: What was she going to _do_ about this? She knew all too well what _unionists_ did - management, after all, had warned them, warned them about Usurious Dues and Unchristian Values and, worst of all, **Strikes.** The very thought set her teeth on edge. Laziness, pure and simple, _weaponized_ laziness turned against the very people who had given them jobs in the first place. And for what? So they could just bring in _new_ workers who were less _ungrateful?_

No. There was only one thing to do about it: leave the house early and let management know what was happening at once. Sure, Mister London would be mad as hell, but there was no way around that. Better for him to find out now, before Croissant could get her hooks in - not to mention how bad Melon Bun would look, if it came out that she **knew** and **didn't say anything.**

She hurriedly got dressed for the day and threw together a "breakfast" consisting of a couple slices of bread and a single apple - she'd make up for it with a heavier lunch, once all this was settled, once all this was behind her _._ As soon as she was done, she was out the door, walking briskly down to the mine with her pickaxe over her shoulder. The sun had only just come up, but it felt terribly, oppressively bright already. _Fine,_ she thought. _Won't matter once I'm back in the mine._

She managed not to worry too much until she actually got there, at which point she immediately felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Croissant was already out by the entrance, perched on top of what looked like an oversized barrel attached to an undersized train, meticulously adjusting this and that. (At least she was wearing a **practical** outfit this time, just an undershirt and some sturdy, flexible pants.) She lit up when she saw Melon Bun - gave her a big smile and a big wave. "Hello there, Melon! It's a bit early, isn't it?"

 _Okay, this is fine,_ Melon Bun lied to herself. _Act normal, stay calm._ She nodded and walked over, looking the machine up and down. "Could say the same here. Surprised to see you workin' on, uh... What're you workin' on, exactly?"

"Oh, this?" She knocked on the side of the machine twice, resulting in a pleasant, resonant _clonk clonk_. "It's a miniaturized tunnel borer! See, normally you blast open new tunnels with dynamite, but that risks collapses and personal injury, so this is a safer way -"

"Ha, I don't know much about the technical end of things, but that sounds great," said Melon Bun, desperately attempting to get out of the conversation before her shift started. "Good luck with that!" She had scarcely made it to the entrance of the mine before Croissant piped up again.

"Actually, I could use your help. See, this thing **mostly** works, but it keeps rattling itself apart - the bolts come loose, you see, because it's pushing itself too hard. I'm trying to figure out how to... prevent it from tearing itself apart, you know?"

"I ain't really an engineer -"

"That doesn't matter!" Croissant hopped off the machine and rushed over to her side. "I've always felt that to really understand a problem, you've got to approach it _holistically,_ and that means more than just textbooks and tinkering - practical experience with the tools is just as important! You've worked with drills, right?"

Melon Bun tilted her helmet back, brushed some stray curls out of her face. "Can't say I have, no. Mostly I stick with my pickaxe, here. More reliable, plus it doesn't need power."

Croissant shook her head. "Ah, well. I'll ask Brioche, when he comes along -"

**"The hell you _will_."**

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry? I don't -"

Damn. She had planned to play it subtle, but... well, maybe this was for the best. Someone had to lay down the law, right? "Look. I know who you _are,_ Croissant. I ain't stupid, y'hear?" Melon Bun took a step forward, staring down at her with contempt. "We don't need **agitators** raisin' trouble around here."

"Agitators?"

"Socialists. _Union types._ "

Croissant just _laughed_. "Me, a unionist? Perish the thought, Melon. Do you really think I'd put my career on the line for that sort of thing?"

Another step forward, close enough that Croissant could feel her breath. "Yeah, I **do**. And you're not **subtle** about it, neither. Leaving pamphlets around not a day after you come to town -"

"I'd have to be _incredibly_ reckless to do something like that."

"I - yes, you -" Melon Bun could feel her face heating up. It was like this woman wasn't even taking these accusations **seriously.** It was like...

 _It's like she doesn't have anything to hide._ She went silent, narrowed her eyes, kept staring at Croissant, waiting for her to crack. But she just kept staring back with that innocent little smile, and her eyebrows arched just so... It was just enough to make Melon Bun second-guess herself. She was still all but certain that this girl was playing her for a fool, but that little bit of doubt, that was enough to throw her off, because suddenly there was a chance - no matter how remote - that she'd be screwing with a woman who was only there to work.

Before she could figure out what to do, or even muster another sentence, she heard the whistle blow. Start of the shift - she needed to hustle, immediately. She shook her head and jabbed her index finger at Croissant. "This ain't over. I'll... cut you a break for now, but I'm keepin' an eye on you."

"Goodness, Melon." Croissant winked. "I suppose it's only fair if I... keep an eye on you as well, eh?"

For some reason, that made her face feel even _hotter_. Without another word, Melon Bun turned on her heels and headed down into the mines.

"Don't work yourself _too_ hard down there!" Croissant called out.

* * *

By the time Melon Bun had actually gotten into position and started mining, she felt sick with anger. All she could think about was what a **sucker** she was. And even worse - if this girl was playing _her_ so easily, how would everybody else react? She was the strongest, most faithful, most _dedicated_ miner the company had by a long shot. She liked to think the others wouldn't get hooked by cheap propaganda, but... well, she _liked_ to think a lot of things. Like that someone getting paid ten times her wages to sit around and futz with drills wouldn't start raising Cain in the first place. ( _Assuming it **is** her doing it, _an increasingly-irritating part of her pointed out.)

It didn't help that her hunger outstripped her nausea a lot faster than she expected. Only a couple hours into the shift, she felt herself flagging. She pushed herself forward anyway, but that just made Croissant's voice echo in her head. _Don't break your back out there. Work too hard and you'll never work again. It keeps rattling itself apart..._ Every swing of her pickaxe was both a rejection of those words, and potential evidence that they were right.

Eventually, she simply couldn't stand it anymore. She tossed her tools to the ground and stormed off to the canteen, which was - thankfully - empty aside from a couple old Sourdoughs who always ate early. She made her way to the counter and slammed a handful of scrip down.

"Soup, fish, two helpings of potatoes. Beans. Bread and butter, too."

The girl behind the counter chuckled. "All that, huh? Must've hit an even bigger vein than yesterday."

Melon Bun just grumbled in response; as soon as everything was laid out on two small trays, she snatched them up and made her way to the corner of the room, where _hopefully_ nobody would bother her with well-intended conversation.

After some deep breaths and about half a bowl of soup, she finally felt herself calming down. This wasn't the end of the world - yet, at least. She just needed some time to think about it, or maybe seek answer through prayer. The important thing was keeping a cool head until she decided on a course of action.

Of course, that got a lot more difficult once she was about halfway through the potatoes, at which point just about everyone else started filtering into the room, Croissant included. Melon Bun did her best to ignore her, but that was already proving impossible. Even when she wasn't _looking_ at Croissant, she couldn't help but _think_ about her. The way she was sat down with the other miners, already making jokes and small talk like **she** was the one who'd worked here for years. Her smug little Whatever-Could-You-Mean act, and the constant _questions_ she asked, pretending she actually cared about the answers. Her singsongy voice, those slender fingers and soft palms that clearly never saw a day of real hard labor in their lives, the oil smeared on her cheek and the dirt caked under her fingernails, the way her ponytail bounced and swung around when she made sudden movements -

Desperate to latch onto anything else, she ended up staring at Croissant's lunch with laser-like focus - some kind of cheese-and-vegetable sandwich. _Must've brought it from home._ The bread alone looked nicer than everything left on Melon Bun's tray put together.

 _Doesn't matter. Food's food._ She started on the fish, eating as quickly as possible - if everyone else was already grabbing lunch, she needed to get back to work. The whole time, though, she kept staring at that sandwich. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd even **seen** tomatoes that looked as red as that, let alone eaten them. She forced her eyes closed, shook her head. _Stupid thing to obsess over._

Eventually, blessedly, Melon Bun managed to finish her meal. She shuffled back towards the tunnel where she left her pickaxe, pretending not to notice when Croissant waved and wished her good luck. She just needed to get back to work.

The sound of metal striking stone was almost enough to drown out the memory of Croissant's laughter.

* * *

She didn't end up finding much in the way of ore, but that was the nature of the job. Some days you hit it big, other days it was nothing but rubble and dust. And unlike _some_ people, she planned ahead and lived within her means, so she could weather a bad stretch without running up a tab at the company store.

All the same, she couldn't help but worry. If this became a pattern, she'd be in hot water - and she still had to figure out what to do about the I.I.U. situation. Needless to say, her mood didn't improve when she exited the mine to find Croissant tinkering with a generator.

"Hey! How was the haul today?"

"It was **fine.** Ain't your shift over?"

Croissant shrugged. "You know how it is. You solve one problem, then another crops up... by the time you fix that, you figure you might as well take care of this other task before you head home... soon enough, it's sunset! But," she said, tossing her wrench into the dirt, "this is fantastic! We can walk home together again!"

Melon Bun sighed. Of all the things... "Look, I know I said I'd keep an eye on you -"

"And this is the best way to make _sure_ I don't get into any trouble, isn't it? If only for twenty minutes or so."

 _No use arguing, then._ "Fine. Ain't like I can stop you."

They made their way down the road, Melon Bun doing everything she could to focus on the path in front of her instead of the woman next to her. Croissant, however, seemed intent on making that as difficult as possible.

"So I was talking to Soboro and Brioche at lunch -"

"I thought I told you not to bother them."

"They're our _co-workers,_ Melon. It's only common courtesy."

(Melon Bun said nothing to that, mostly because she was suddenly very aware that she had never made much of an effort to say anything to her co-workers besides _you're not wearing your helmet properly_ and _you'll get more power if you swing it like **so**._)

"Anyway, I was talking to Soboro and Brioche, and there was some interest in getting together to play cards on Saturday evenings. Only thing is, we could use a fourth..."

Melon Bun turned to face Croissant, mostly so she could give her a proper look of disapproval. "I don't gamble, and neither should you. It's a sin."

Croissant chuckled. "We're not _gambling,_ Melon, we're only -"

"Bun."

"Hm?"

"Melon _Bun._ You keep talking like we're friends. I ain'tcher friend, and you ain't mine. We clear on that?"

"...Fine." For the first time, there was real anger and disappointment in Croissant's voice. _Good,_ Melon Bun told herself. _Maybe this can be a wake-up call. Lord knows she could use one._

They walked in silence the rest of the way, Melon Bun taking slow, measured breaths the whole time. The air was soothing in the way that only summer-evening air can be, smooth and cool, a hint of grass on the breeze, some kind of unspoken promise of better things suffusing the world around you... but she only felt herself getting more agitated with every step. The sooner this was over, the better.

By the time they reached her house, it took all her strength not to stomp in and slam the door behind her. Still, as much of a headache as this girl was, she at least deserved a goodbye.

"There. You can get home on your own from here, right?"

"Yes. It's not far."

Melon Bun stood in front of her house, waiting for Croissant to leave. She glanced down the street, then back up at Melon Bun.

"I hope you change your mind."

Melon Bun's eyes widened. "Wh - change my mind?"

"About... being friends. You're a thoughtful, dedicated woman, Melon Bun, and I'd like to get to know you better."

And _then_ she left, just in time for Melon Bun to keeping staring at her retreating form, a blank expression on her face. Even after she disappeared over the horizon, Melon Bun just kept staring.

_Strange woman._

Melon Bun headed in and started heating up another pot of soup. This time, though, she couldn't focus on her magazine. Her mind kept wandering, and she re-read the same paragraph again and again, the meaning sliding right off of her like jelly off a knife. She kept thinking about that pamphlet, stowed under her mattress just in case she needed to bring it in as Evidence.

She hadn't actually read the contents. The cover was more than enough to put her off it. But... well, if nothing else, she should at least know what it says, right? That way, she could more easily argue against it.

She waited for the soup to finish, then headed into her room and dug out the pamphlet. She opened it with shaking hands, and found... what looked like some kind of price chart? It was titled,

**HOW MUCH IS _YOUR_ HAUL WORTH?**

From there, it was just... a list of ore and gems by type and weight. She'd seen similar ones posted in the store and on the wall by the management offices. This one, though, had an extra-thick line in the middle, dividing it into two sections - THE MINER and THE BOSS.

 _Cheesestone - Miner, 1 lb., 25c - Miner, 10 lb., 300c - Boss, 1 lb., 200c - Boss, 10 lb., 2000c._ She felt... less surprised, perhaps, than the printer had intended. This was just how running a company worked; she assumed everyone was on the same page, there. All the same, seeing the exact figures **did** feel a bit strange. It wasn't so much that the owners were making _more_ than she expected, it was more that seeing market prices laid out on the page at _all_ made the matter feel more concrete.

Melon Bun shook her head. She was losing focus again. At this rate, her soup would be ice cold before she finished reading. She moved on to the next section -

**THE SCRIP SYSTEM - THE NEW SERFDOM**

_When defending their ill-gotten gains, the bosses often say that the free market breeds competition, and competition leads to a better society. Why, then, do they pay us in "money" that isn't worth the paper it's printed on - knowing full well we can only spend it at the stores they own?_

And soon to the next -

**THE LIE OF BENEVOLENT BOSSES**

_"We're not just a company, we're a **family.** " "We want to make sure that our workers love the town they live in, and that they can raise happy, healthy families here." "Profit is nice, but really, we're in this to make the world a better place." We bet you've heard all this and more..._

And the next, and the next, and she was finished in what felt like an instant. She found herself rereading the pamphlet again and again, squinting at every other line, like she was trying to decrypt a secret message.

She still hadn't gotten her thoughts straight when she realized she'd left her soup alone. She hastily crammed the pamphlet back under the mattress, rushed over to the shelf where she'd left the pot, and -

Let out a heavy sigh. Her fears were right - ice cold.


End file.
